


It Turns to Chaos

by Das_Hazel (mikuridaigo)



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Dungeon Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, no on screen rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikuridaigo/pseuds/Das_Hazel
Summary: Assassin, kingslayer, monster. Soren has every reason to hate the elf that murdered his King and two innocent princes.And yet Runaan kisses him. He's should walk away, or kill him.He does neither. Instead he kisses back.--Obligatory dungeon sex fic as requested bySir-scandalous





	It Turns to Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I love The Dragon Prince and Soren especially. [Sir-scandalous ](https://twitter.com/Sir_Scandalous) requested a Runaan getting rawed in the dungeon, and though the themes here are darker than what I usually write there is clear consent between Soren and Runaan. Please heed the tags though, as there are references to rape elements but none actually shown.  
> This is also a darker take on the plot, so I apologize if Soren is out of character. I love that he's a dorky jock and would like to explore that more later, but for this, it's pure angst. 
> 
> This took longer to complete I swear the next dungeon fic is just Gren and Runaan bored and rut into each other but anyway.
> 
> Un-beta'd and enjoy!

 

> _And my own two hands will comfort you tonight. Say when._
> 
>  

Soren peers into the dungeon door with a frown. Damn moonshadow elf has no reason to be alive, not when he has the King’s blood on his hands. He has no idea what his father or Claudia have planned for the elf, because he’s apparently useful for something. Whatever that is, Soren thinks it’s not worth his life. 

What annoys him more is how he’s on guard duty for the elf, Runaan, as he heard the other elves say. Any other guard would have been fine, it isn’t like the the assassin was trying to escape. Which, in retrospect, he should find suspicious. He’s said nothing since his capture nor a sound during interrogation. He just stares back with those angry murderous eyes. If he was free, Soren knows he’d be the next target. 

It’s almost the end of his shift when Claudia comes down with a tray of food. Plain porridge with bread and water, common prison food, but still too good for the kingslayer. 

When she approaches Soren, she takes a peek inside and glances between them. “Has he said anything?”

Soren scoffs. “Nothing. If I woulda guessed, dad might have taken his voice.”

“Well, let me in. Maybe I can get something out of him.”

It has only been twelve hour since he was captured, and in that time they had their best interrogators and their own father try and talk to him, getting nothing. Claudia, in her own sweet, obnoxious personality can make people talk. Maybe if she annoys the elf enough he’d say  _ something _ .

But the thought of his sister in the same room as that monster settles badly in his stomach, even though she’s strong enough to hold her own, and those chains are strong enough to hold him in place. 

Soren huffs his chest. “I’ll be right here.” He reassures her, and she gives him a sweet smile as he opens the door. 

Once she’s inside he closes it, a safety precaution in case he does try to escape, but Soren keeps the hatch open to watch them. 

Claudia sets down the tray and takes a spoonful of porridge. She holds it up to his mouth, but Runaan turns his head away with a childish pout. After a few minutes of trying to push the food into his mouth, Claudia sighs and puts the spoon down. “You’ll have to eat eventually.”

The elf just glares. 

“You know, I can force you to eat.” Claudia threatens. She holds her hand up, mumbling a spell. The chains rattle and Soren hears a thud. He looks inside and sees Runaan standing, pressed against the wall with the force of Claudia’s magic. 

Finally, a reaction from him. A sneer, with eyes dangerously targeting Claudia. “Careful now  _ witch _ , you do not know the power you control.”

Claudia doesn’t falter at the insult. She moves her hand, forcing the elf’s head back. “I know more than you, kingslayer. Eat. You are not dying here.”

“I rather die than give my soul to your  _ insidious  _ power.” 

“What?” Claudia asks. “You’re here to tell us the moonshadow elves’ plans. How many more have entered Katolis?”

He stares at her, trying to read her face before he returns to that smirk. “That’s not why I’m here. You’re a child, a pawn to your father’s game.”

“Do not speak about our father.” She warns. 

“I will not give you, or your father  _ anything _ . No information, no leads, not even my soul. I will die here, just as your king, and the rest of you filthy humans.” He spits in her face. Claudia steps back with a yelp, her magic ceasing and Runaan falls back to the floor. 

“Hey!” Soren enters the room and puts himself between them. He holds his sword to his throat, but Claudia pulls him back. 

“Don’t!” 

Runaan looks up at Soren, the smug expression never fading. “Your sister is a monster, swordsman. She will kill more children than your King has.”

“How dare you--”

“Soren!” Claudia takes his arm and pulls him to the door. “He’s just trying to get you angry. He’s trying to take the easy way out.” 

Soren takes a deep breath knowing that she’s right. “Sorry. Come on, leave him to rot.”

“But he has to--”

“If he refuses to eat, he can die a slow death.” Soren says, gesturing her out. Claudia looks over his shoulder, and with a sigh she walks out. Soren doesn’t look back as he closes the door, and the window into the cell. 

“Soren, Claudia.” The two turn to see their father in the hall. “Come. The funeral begins.”

* * *

 

The Princes are dead. Slaughtered by the elves.

Soren sees red. 

They were just children. Callum could barely hold a sword his half his size, and Ezran-- naive and gentle Ezran who loved his frog and jelly tarts-- slain by the bloodthirsty monsters. 

Soren makes his way back to the the cells, yelling at each elf, demanding one to step forward, and admit that they killed the children. None of them answer of course, and they seemed more than happy to take a blade to their throat than talk. 

He makes his way to their leader’s cell, who sits with his chains stringing up his arms. That smug expression on his face may be gone, but he knows that they are still winning. They’ve put Katolis in ruins, killing the King and his heirs, and now the rest of the five kingdoms are next to fall. 

“You call us monsters, we are not the ones who slay children!” Soren yells. He steps into the cell and grabs Runaan by the throat. “Which one of you did it? The kingdom needs to see what a true monster looks like.”

The expression on Runaan’s face is a mixture of intrigue and confusion. He keeps looking at his armband, with which no matter how much tugging and cutting, the guards could not pull off. 

“You are of age but act as a child. So  _ naive _ , ready to believe anything you’re told.”

Soren lets go of his neck. “I believe I fought you, watched as you cut the throat of our king, and trapped you here in this cell.”

“But you did not see the children slaughtered, did you?” 

“No, I was a little preoccupied.” Soren growls. “I won’t ask again, which one of you killed the princes?”

“The funeral has just occured, but for the king only. You have not seen the children’s bodies? How we cut their throats just like their father?” 

Soren’s stomach turns, and fury fires through his veins. And without Claudia to stop him, he punches his face. “You are all monsters.”

Runaan spits blood on the floor. “So quick to anger, so easily fallen to lies. Humans really are stupid and vile.”

Hands clenching, he pulls Runaan by his hair and forces him to stand. They’re eye to eye now, faces just inches apart. He tries to search for some kind of weakness, any sort of vulnerability that can get him his answers. The elf still holds out strong almost mockingly. Soren has once again fallen into his trap, and it only makes him angrier. 

Runaan is heartless, bloodthirsty, and for what? The humans were driven out of their land centuries ago, there is no reason for them to attack an innocent King, let along his children. 

“Do it, swordsman,” Runaan says. “You know you want to.” 

Fury burns in his veins, ready for another punch when he remembers Claudia’s warning. Runaan wants this, for whatever sick reason, he wants to get hurt, and he’s hoping Soren will finally do it. 

The thing is, Soren’s never killed. Even with how ready was earlier that night, how ready he is now, he’s never spilled blood. He’s guarded and protected the King without death, until now. Maybe that was his mistake, for not taking a life to protect one. 

Runaan’s eyes go from challenging, to curious, and he throws his head back with a laugh. “You...you’re a virgin!” 

Soren tries to hide the blush in his face at that word as he pushes Runaan against the wall. “What the hell did you say?”

Runaan smiles big. “A swordsman, a Kingsguard and yet you’ve never drawn blood. No wonder you couldn’t protect your King-”

Soren grabs his horn and pulls his head back, while he draws his sword to his neck. “I’ll kill you here.” 

“Oh? You want me to be your first?” Runaan leans to the edge of the blade. “Be gentle with me.”

It takes what little self control that Soren had left to not drive his sword into his throat and leave him to bleed. He wants to hurt him the same way they hurt the King-- his  _ children. _ Yet Soren won’t stoop so low as to kill someone chained and helpless. He isn’t the monster elves claim humans are, so he lets him go and walks away. This time, Runaan doesn’t mock him.

He has no idea how this elf is ‘useful’ as Claudia and his father says, but until he’s given the word, he’ll have to let him live. 

Soren closes the cell door and jumps at his father’s presence. “Dad! I was just--” 

Viren stands with his chin high and hands behind his back, glancing between the cell doors and his son. “Has he said anything useful?”

“No, nothing.” He says. How long has his dad been standing there?

Viren sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Leave us. I’ll deal with him.” 

“Are you sure? What if he--”

“Go.”

Soren knows when to push his father, so with a nod he leaves. 

* * *

 

When the sun rises over the palace, a somber tone takes presence instead. The morning guards start their shift, the maids clean the rooms, and the kitchen clamors with chefs preparing the staff’s meals. Yet no one speaks. The banter and laughter among each other is gone. 

In the bath, Soren replaces the bandage on his shoulder. Claudia’s healing gel works wonders--the wound closed the second he applied it, and now it’s scabbing over without blood. 

He’s only lucky the elf’s aim was shitty, otherwise the maids would be cleaning his blood from the halls too. In fact, there were only few deaths from the guards that night, all others were knocked out or heavily wounded. Maybe that was part of their strategy? Just aim for royalty? 

Soren tries not to dwell too much on it as he prepares for the rest of his day: a morning run in the courtyard, breakfast with his family, and then guard duty, most likely watching Runaan again. 

The thought of the elf turns his face red. Claudia was right, he was just trying to stir a reaction out of him. But why use  _ virgin  _ out of all words? 

He’s the youngest general in the Kingsguard, his job being protect the King. Of course he’s never killed. Those who have attempted at the King’s life before were sent to prison, and that was because they were clumsy assassins, easily taken down if Soren had his hand tied behind his back. 

But the way Runaan laughs at his inexperience, how the elf knows just where to push his buttons, it just makes Soren fluster more. How is he supposed to be a guard if he’s that easily riled up? 

Soren’s almost tempted to ask Marcos to switch shifts with him, but word will somehow return to his father, only proving he’s too young and experienced for this job. He’ll just have to deal with the elf, and ignore him as much as he can. 

He runs out his nerves, and during breakfast eggs on Claudia to talk more and get his mind off Runaan. But even Claudia isn’t in the mood for her usual antics. She tries to talk about a spell she’s been working on, but she goes silent and holds her head in her hands. 

Soren walks up to her and lets her cry on his chest. “Sorry… Callum said he wanted to learn magic and…” 

“I’m sure you would have been a great teacher Claudia.” Soren says, trying to comfort her. “He liked you a lot.”

She chuckles between her sobs. “Yeah, I know he did.”

His usual big appetite is gone now, filled with grief. Those dirty elves didn’t just kill the princes, they killed their friends. 

Claudia uses Soren’s tunic to wipe her nose, and he pulls away in disgust. She laughs this time and wipes her eyes, so Soren passes her a napkin. 

They hear the footsteps and cane from their father, and Soren and Claudia turn to the door to greet him. Their father looks tired, as if he hasn’t slept since the funeral. He always overworks himself ragged for the King, and now without a leader he’s doing two jobs at once. 

Soren stands straight and clears his throat. “Morning dad! Claudia’s pancakes are amazing, and look! No butter on mine!” 

Soren tries to give his signature smile, anything to break the tension in their dad, but Viren just glances at the table with disinterest. “Soren, may I speak to you privately?”

Claudia and Soren glance at each other before she gestures him to follow their dad. “Sure.”

Viren leads them to a private room, far away from the kitchen and any other passerbys. “What’s up?” Soren asks too casually. 

“Son, I know this is not the easiest thing for me to ask of you, but after a rotation of guards, I noticed the elf only talks to you.”

Figures, Soren thinks, because he’s an easy target. 

“Uh, is that a bad thing? Otherwise I can find another guard to take my place instead.” 

“Actually, it’s perfect.” Viren says. “I ask that you take 12 hour shifts with him, and during that time to try to get as much as you can out of him. We need to know if they have other agents close to the castle, or in Katolis.”

Soren winces. He’s done 12 hour shifts before, but only for patrols, not with a cold blooded killer. 

Viren places a hand on his shoulder. “Please son, I can only trust you with this.”

His father’s voice goes soft and reassuring, just like when he was appointed as a royal guard when he was sixteen. It’s that reassurance that made him train harder to get to where he is now. 

“I’ll do it.” Soren says, trying to fill his voice with confidence. 

“Thank you son.” Soren nods at him and starts to make his way out of the room when Viren speaks again. “Just so you know, you have permission to use any means necessary to get him to talk.  _ Any _ means.” 

Soren tries not to shiver at the suddenly cold tone. “Understood.” He says as he hurriedly leaves the room.

 

Except  _ not _ understood! Any means necessary? What the hell is that suppose to mean? 

He’s punched and pulled the guy’s hair enough to no avail, and if anything he seemed a little  _ too _ into it to want to reveal anything, and not like hurting the other assassins will get any of them to talk. They’re asking for a faster death. 

He knows of other violent torture methods, though he’s never witnessed it in person. It’s something he’s never needed to participate in--and thinking about it, something he doesn’t to either. 

Every threat he’s given to Runaan was swift and fast, because that’s what he was trained. There’s no use drawing out a battle when it can end as quickly as possible. He’s never needed to  _ torture _ anyone until now.

He relieves the night guard and stands in his place, keeping his eyes to the staircase rather than the prisoner. For the first two hours Soren thinks he’s free of the elf’s tauntings, and by the third he lets out a long yawn from boredom. He should have asked Claudia for more of her brown morning potion. 

He hears the chains rattle inside, but Soren keeps his eyes straight ahead. They rattle for the next ten minutes, and Soren starts to sing a song in his head to drown in out. It’s only when he hears Runaan grunting is when he turns back to the cell to see what he’s up to. 

Runaan tugs the chains side to side, though not hard enough to try and pry them off the walls. And it’s Soren’s mistake to peek inside, because the second they make eye contact Runaan locks onto Soren, his target he will never let go of. 

What he doesn’t expect to see is Runaan shirtless with dark bruises all over his chest,  _ new _ bruises, Soren notes. His lips are split too with dried blood. What the hell happened when he was asleep?

Soren turns away from the window. “Stop that. It’s annoying and not like you’ll get out.”

“But guard, I have to relieve myself.” 

Soren groans and leans against the wall. Runaan didn’t have this complaint when he watched him last night.

“I’ll call for another guard to help.”

“That’s no fun.” Runaan says with disappointment. “I don’t want those filthy humans touching me.”

Of course he doesn’t. Seems like his father’s theory was right. “I thought I was a filthy human.”

“You are. But I rather have you.”

Soren takes a deep breath to compose himself. He repeats over and over to not fall for his tricks, to keep his emotions in check. Runaan is just trying to get him angry, so he leaves his sword by the entrance, to stop himself from drawing it just in case he is pushed too far. 

He enters the cell, and walking close he sees the bruises more clearly. They’re a combination of nail scratches and hickies, and now Soren has an idea what happened to him. 

The last person entering Runaan’s cell, at least to Soren’s knowledge, was his dad, and he shudders thinking if it was him who left those marks on Runaan. Or if he demanded another guard to do it.

Is this what his father meant by any means necessary? Did he expect Soren to rape him for answers? 

He feels sick. No fucking way he’s going to do that. He’s a royal guard, not a rapist, his father knows that. He meant use psychological means, or get Claudia to use her magic, but not this.  

There’s a bucket in the corner of the room, recently washed but still had some stains. Holding his breath Soren brings it up between Runaan’s legs. 

Runaan stands and raises an eyebrow. “Can’t exactly relieve myself while I still wear pants.” 

Fucking hell. 

Keeping his hands as steady as possible, Soren unknots the string on Runaan’s pants and slides them down to his ankles. The sight of his thighs only confirm his worst fears. Dark hickies and dried blood from scratches grossly decorate his legs. Soren thinks about the healing gel, knowing it can make those bruises go away faster than his arrow wound. 

“Your father watched.” Runaan says. “As he commanded the guards to do this.” 

“Stop.” Soren grits out. 

“He believed it would get me to talk. It didn’t of course. Hence why he sent you down here.”

“What, to finish it?” Soren practically spits. 

Runaan does his best shrug. “Perhaps. You are a servant to the kingdom after all, won’t you do as commanded?”

“Not this.” Soren says with full truth. “Never that.” 

The longer he stares at his legs the worse he feels. With a sigh he pulls out Claudia’s gel. “Hold still.”

He scoops a small amount on his index and middle finger. He starts with Runaan’s chest. A light coating on every piece of broken skin. In just a few seconds the cream seeps into his body, a light glow indicates it’s working. 

He moves down to Runaan’s thighs, and doing his best to focus just on the wounds and not the hard, ridged, purple cock. Soren heals every bruise and bite he can see. 

“Why?” Runaan asks when Soren moves into his inner thigh.

“Because it’s gross.” Soren says.

“You threaten to shove your sword in my throat, yet you find sexual acts disgusting?”

“That’s not a sexual act.” Soren says. “It’s an act of violence, taking something in the worst way possible.”

“Worse than death?”

“Death… is swift. Easy. Justifiable given the crime, such as killing a  _ king _ .” Soren emphasizes. “It ends everything. But this,” Soren pulls his hand away, watching as the cream works its magic, “Nothing can justify this.” 

King Harrow wouldn’t have asked of this kind of punishment, and even in death Soren imagines he would be disgusted to see his own guards perform such an act. 

“Your kindness is weak.” Runaan says. 

“A thank you would suffice.” Soren huffs. 

Runaan never breaks his stare. “You missed a spot.”

Soren scans his body, trying to find any darkened area of skin. When the chain rattles, Soren looks up to see what the prisoner is up to, when Runaan instead leans forward and captures his lips. 

He tastes... _ sweet _ , despite being in the dungeon for almost two days without any basic hygiene. And he’s strong too, because even with the chains holding him back the kiss is strong, almost intoxicating.

Soren’s brain finally catches up to him and he pulls back. He steps back and trips over the bucket, falling right on his ass. 

Runaan raises an eyebrow. “I thought swordsmen were supposed to be light on their feet?”

His lips tingle, the taste of berries still dancing on his tongue. “W-what the hell did you do that for?!”

“I want you.” Runaan says as a matter of fact. 

“The hell you do! This is just another trick.” Soren throws the bucket aside and stands up. “Don’t think you can fool me.”

He starts to talk out the door, but Runaan’s voice stops him. “Guard? Will you at least dress me? What would happen if another guard comes down here and sees me so vulnerable?”

With a low groan Soren does turn back to help pull them back up, keeping his face as far away as possible from Runaan. But the elf’s presence overtakes him, and despite the shackles, Soren feels like his prey. 

“You’ve healed me, but I still feel their touches. I think I felt something rip.”

Soren downs his disgust. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you put the gel there too? It still hurts.”

It’s a trap, it’s a fucking trap and Soren knows it because that kiss said something more than just “healing” a wound. 

But Soren’s hands are still on Runaan’s pants, and he feels the elf’s hot breath in his ear. With what he knows will soon be his downfall, Soren looks at him again. Those bloodthirsty, murderous eyes are gone, replaced with something more dangerous--lust. 

Soren doesn’t move, so Runaan leans forward and kisses him again. Soren releases his waistband and takes Runaan’s face in his hands, drawing him closer into their kiss. Soren opens his mouth and lets Runaan slip in his tongue.

There’s no going back now, Soren feels so inebriated to be kissed like this. The taste of berries fulfills him and he wants more. 

A string of saliva still connects them even when Soren pulls away to breath. Runaan’s face is flushed with excitement as he tries to kiss Soren again. “I-I can’t…” Soren says. “I’m not like them.”

“No. You’re kinder, caring,  _ weaker _ than your fellow guards. This is why I chose you. You’ll do what’s right.”

What’s right is just to walk away, close the door, and never speak to Runaan again. What’s right is to personally chose guards that won’t be influenced by his tongue, but also won’t take advantage of his vulnerable state, and keep serving the kingdom until the war ends.

What might be right is just to let him go--let them all go so they can lick their wounds in the wild, rather than suffer the guard’s plans while they stay in the dungeon. 

Of course he can’t do either. They have to answer for their crimes. And Runaan’s tongue makes a convincing argument to stay. 

Soren lays light kisses on his cheek and neck, at each spot that used to have a bruise. He moves to his chest while his hands caress his hips. He’s perfectly toned and muscular, a body Soren both worships and envies for himself. 

He feels Runaan’s cock twitch, so Soren takes his hand and lightly grasps him. Runaan’s breath hitches with pleasure. He feels… different. The ridges certainly add a texture Soren would never expect from a cock, and he can’t help but wonder how it’d feel inside him. 

Soren has his index finger and thumb wrapped around Runaan’s cock, so when he slides down a ridge he feels Runaan shudder. He does it over and over, noting that the ridges closer to his head are more sensitive than the bottom ones. 

Soren gets down to his knees, still pumping Runaan as he sticks his tongue out and licks the head. The chains rattle as Runaan bucks his hips, and he grabs them to hold himself back. Soren takes that as a good sign and takes as much of him in as he can. His tongue swipes under each ridge and a spurt of precum flows into his mouth. He pulls away, surprised that it too taste like berries, and that it  _ sparkles _ . 

He goes in again, and hollows his mouth to take of him as much as he can, but when he feels the head hit the back of his throat he pulls off with a cough. 

“Hm, you are a virgin.” 

“S-shut up!” Soren says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which sparkles from the precum. Huh. “I know it’s not comfy, but you should sit down, it’ll be easier to uh, heal you.”

Runaan raises his eyebrow but does as told, sitting with his back resting on the wall and legs spread out, just for Soren. Soren dips two fingers into the healing gel and brings them to Runaan’s entrance. “This might sting.”

Runaan nods, understanding, and he relaxes as much as he can as Soren pushes in. He doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, so Soren keeps them in to let the gel work. With his other hand, Soren lifts Runaan’s chin and captures his lips, who in return moans into his mouth. 

He pushes his fingers as deep as he can, trying his damnedest to control himself from finishing him too fast. 

Soren pulls out, knowing that the healing gel will take a few minutes to work, but Runaan whispers at the lost of him. 

“Swordsman,  _ more.” _ He practically growls, and that growl shouldn’t turn him on. 

Soren runs a hand through his long white hair. “Soren. My name is Soren.”

Runaan smiles. “ _ Soren _ , I need you.”

His name drips from the elf’s tongue like honey, and he wants him to say his name again. 

Dipping into the gel, Soren gives him his two fingers, this time lightly thrusting in and out to stretch him properly. Runaan groans in pleasure, sighing contently as he buries his face in Soren’s shoulder. The armor must not be comfortable for him, so Soren takes a step back to quickly remove it. Possibly very stupid to do so, but without it he feels lighter, and it’s easier to hold Runaan. 

He removes his shirt too for the sake of it, and a small sense of victory washes over him with the way Runaan stares curiously. 

Soren adds a third finger. Runaan jerks in his hand and surges forward to kiss him again. Soren closes his eyes, concentrate on pleasuring Runaan as best as he can. When he feels loose enough, Soren goes harder, fucking him deep and fast till Runaan is practically drooling for more. He must have hit something because Runaan’s entire body shudders, and more pre-cum leaks from his cock. 

When Runaan thrusts back on his fingers, Soren knows he’s ready. He pulls back just to undo his own pants. He shudders at the cold air hitting his cock, and when Runaan stares down at him, Soren starts to feel self conscious again. “What?”

“Smaller, than elves your age.” 

His face heats up. “Fuck off! Sorry humans don’t have large ridged dicks like you guys.”

Runaan smirks in amusement. “Is my size intimidating?”

_ Yes, _ Soren thinks but will never admit out loud. Hell, Runaan is bigger than him in all sorts of ways.

He places his hands underneath Runaan’s knees, hiking his legs around his waist as he alighs his cock. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Runaan scoffs, so he takes it as an okay. He slowly pushes in, feeling Runaan’s heat completely engulf him. “Fuck…”

He feels so,  _ so  _ good. Slowly but surely he pushes up until their hips are touching, and Runaan’s cock presses on Soren’s stomach. Runaan throws his head back with a moan, so Soren kisses his adam’s apple and leaves more down his collarbone. 

He stays buried in him, because if he moved he’d come too fast. He never would have guessed his first time will be in a dungeon with a  _ kingslayer _ of all people. Yet he isn’t stopping until Runaan asks him too.

Soren takes his lips yet again, mostly to stop himself from moaning too loudly. Runaan opens his mouth and enthusiastically slides his tongue against Soren’s. He feels wetter than before because saliva drips down their chins. 

Runaan pulls away and licks his lips. “Are you going to move? I can’t fuck myself on you.” He says, pulling at the chains. 

Soren doesn’t reply verbally, and instead pulls him closer to his lap with a thrust. He bites his own lip to silent himself as he rolls his hips. Every movement creates more heat between them so he continues at this slow pace.

Runaan breathes heavily in his ear, his hot breath steaming up the room. As Soren picks up the pace, Runaan grows quiet, closing his eyes with his mouth hanging out. Breathy gasps and pants fill the air, along with the sound of skin slapping. 

Runaan clenches around him, making Soren groan with pleasure. The elf leans forward and bites his ear, whispering, “Do it swordsman, make me forget.”

With a request like that Soren stops holding back. He braces his hand against the wall and snaps his hips. Runaan chokes on his own saliva.

The chains clatter with every movement. Soren moves long and excruciatingly, just barely pulling out before slamming back into him. He finds the perfect rhythm, hitting Runaan in all the right places and making the elf moan out his name. 

“So--ren, oh my stars--ah!”

Soren’s finds it harder to breathe in the hot air, inhaling Runaan’s sweet lewd sounds. He watches with pure excitement every time his cock disappears into him. Runaan’s own dick twitches with precum leaking through. 

They’re both close, with the way Runaan clenches and Soren mindlessly rutting into him. With his other hand, Soren grabs Runaan’s cock and pumps him with his movements. 

Runaan’s body isn’t sure what to do, thrust into Soren’s hands or bounce on his dick. Soren stops moving for a second, focusing just on Runaan as he gets him off. He kisses Runaan’s check. 

“Come for me Runaan.” 

Runaan shudders, and with Soren’s name strained on his lips he lets go, coming in his hand and on his stomach. He tries not to chuckle at the way it sparkles, so he instead brings it to his lips and licks off the fruity, sticky flavor. 

“Haah, Soren…” Runaan laughs between his heavy breathing. “Finish,  _ please _ .”

“Okay, just let me…” He pulls Runaan in his lap and thrusts in deep, hitting his sweet spot over and over. Runaan’s tight around him after coming, and just seconds later, as Runaan calls his name again, he bottoms out and fills him with his cum. 

Runaan silences his moans with another harsh kiss, swallowing all the air and sound from Soren. Soren pulls back just to catch his breath, but touches his forehead with Runaan’s as he comes down from his high. 

Sweat glistens their flushed bodies. Soren takes his clean hand and tuck’s Runaan’s hair behind his ear and caresses his cheek. Another moment passes when Soren finally pulls out of him. His cum drips out and pools on the floor. 

“Ah… let me…” Soren reaches for his cape and wipes off the sweat and cum from Runaan, knowing it’ll dry uncomfortably on him. Runaan hums, content with his touches. 

When he finishes Soren pulls Runaan’s pants up first, and then dresses himself. When he stares back at him, he’s not sure who he’s looking at anymore. Kingslayer, prisoner, the most vile creature trying to end all humans, and now  _ lover-- _ the guy who took his virginity. 

Yet no sense of dread or disgust goes through him, though that doesn’t mean he feels good about what just happened. Even with Runaan’s consent, in the end, he still has to be chained to answer for his crimes.

“I...hoped that helped.” Soren says dumbly. 

Runaan just huffs, and Soren guesses that means business is done. He gave Runaan what he wanted, and neither party gained nothing. This isn’t exactly the way he wants the afterglow to happen, but it’ll have to do.

“I… can’t guarantee the next guard will be nice.” Soren says truthfully. “But I’ll assign who I can to watch you. Ones that are good.” Runaan doesn’t reply. “Do you… want anything? I can get the porridge. Or a jelly tart?” 

“The princes are alive.” 

This is already a shitty afterglow, but his words sends a chill down his spine. “What?”

“The princes are alive. Your father is lying.”

“What the fuck?” Soren takes Runaan’s chin and forces him to look up at him. “You don’t get to play this game. You said they died, slaughtered like their father.”

“And I said you never saw the bodies. They’re alive, probably with a Moonshadow elf.”

“No. We captured you. The other four--”

“Five.” Runaan says. “There should have been five in that other dungeon, but she escaped. There were six of us total. You missed one, and she has the princes.” 

Soren lets him go and stomps out the door. He feels dizzy, body suddenly lethargic. He gave the elf what he wanted, and all he gets in return are more lies--a game of death and anguish using children as their pieces. 

“I’m not coming back.”

“I guessed you wouldn’t.” 

He may not have the final word, but Soren feels satisfaction slamming the door closed, and walking away. 

* * *

 

No matter how much he washes himself, Soren can’t get Runaan’s scent off him. He can’t get the elf’s eyes out of his mind, his sultry voice of pleasure turning cold with venom every time he brought up the princes and King. It feels like Runaan got more information out of him than the other way around.

No amount of violence or torture will get him to talk, why did he think actual sex would? 

Soren knows why he did it-- he found Runaan objectively attractive and he fell under his spell. Still, nothing sets right with him. 

He saw the King’s body, but not the princes. He remembers Callum running out from the palace, Ezran’s voice calling out for his brother, and then nothing. They only burned Harrow’s body too, and while tradition states the princes were to be buried, no one set up a burial. 

He tries to go about the rest of his day as normally as he can. He patrols around the castle, and then to the city to assist the local knights in street crimes, only to return just before his father’s coronation. 

When he enters his father’s room, two guards prepare his uniform. Viren doesn’t notice Soren right away, but when they lock eyes, Soren puts on his best smile. “It’s almost time, Father. Crown time.” He leans on a column, keeping up with his antics. “Or as I like to call it Crown Hour. Or Crown o’clock?”

Viren adjusts the amulet on his uniform. “Did our prison reveal more information?”

Soren frowns. The 6th elf, as Runaan claims, would be important information, but all that leads is to the princes that supposedly lived. And as his father said, the princes are dead. “Nothing. Wouldn’t talk today or eat again.”

Viren looks at him, trying to read his face before turning away. “Thank you, that will be all.”

When his back is turned, Soren lets out the breath he was holding. 

The people of Katolis watches outside the castle as his father gives his speech. He declares he’ll take the heavy burden of Lord Protector, but just before Opeli crowns him, two horses from the distance ride up, a horn catches everyone’s attention, with a male voice demanding the ceremony cease. 

Soren looks out into the distance and sees General Amaya and Commander Gren. “Stop the coronation! The princes are alive!”

Annoyance and anger are painted on his father’s face, but Soren, horrified, turns to the dungeon. He can’t see Runaan, but now he knows, the assassin was right. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk Dragon Prince to me on [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/Das_Hazel)
> 
> Title from The Fray's Say When


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